Forward Memories
by HadrianPendragons
Summary: He was new to the whole reincarnation thing. A world full of pirates and crazy powers granted by fruit of all things wasn't what he was expecting -not that he'd been expecting to die at all. But it's hard to resist the pull of the sea, and Edward Elric was no exception.


_And I have arrived with yet another crossover. Please, enjoy._

* * *

_Prologue- Old Complexes Die Hard_

* * *

Edward Elric awoke that day with more memories than he remembered falling asleep with.

He cursed, clutched his head and screwed his eyes shut. As the migraine started to subside, he began to think.

He knew for a fact that he was born in Risembool, Amestris. He knew he had a younger brother, Alphonse. He knew that his mother was dead –had been for a long time –and that he and Al had gone on a long journey to correct the mistakes they had made after her death. He knew he was the Fullmetal Alchemist, who helped defeat Father and the Homunculi, and sacrificed his gate, his doorway, to Truth, for his brother.

He knew he had a wife and two brilliant children, and had been living in his hometown for a while now, so…

Why, alongside those memories, did he remember a second and honestly crappy childhood?

He remembered living in an orphanage. Being outcasted by the other children for the awful scars _–he'd had them all his life? _–on his left leg and right arm. He remembered running away, living on the streets without a name or a cenz _–berri? _–to call his own.

He remembered being so, _so _alone…

Blinking away his headache and opening his eyes found that, yes, he was in the same alley the memories remembered falling asleep in. A glance at his leg showed that, no, it wasn't made of metal, but was in fact flesh and blood.

Pulling at his long, matted locks revealed that his hair was the same golden-blond it had always been, in both memories, albeit in a haphazard braid instead of the high pony tail he'd taken to. The action also brought the small, slightly emaciated hand he was in control of to his attention.

Far too small to belong to the grown man he was supposed to be.

"The hell is going on here…?" His voice, so _young_, like he'd never heard it before, rasped. He tried to think up an explanation –something, _anything _–to tell him why he was apparently in a _child's body _with a second set of memories, too vivid to be fake or his imagination, of another child's life.

Then his stomach gave a sharp pang alongside making an unholy noise, so he set the problem aside to deal with the more pressing issue of _not starving to death._

The boy in the memories had been a horrid sneak, unable to snag the smallest amount of food simply due to inexperience and exhaustion. He couldn't remember the last time he _–the boy_ –had eaten a decent meal. Ed was, however, very experienced and could put up with the painful ache his entire body gave. In the end, a couple of apples and a lucky piece of bread were quickly devoured, to the jealous gazes of several other street urchins he might not have paid attention to otherwise. He ignored them, though, and found a shady tree at the edge of town. He flopped down on the grass and for a long time just stared at his _–the boy's _–hands. His thoughts chased each other in a never-ending circle, until eventually they were interrupted by a partially suppressed memory.

"_Why in the world would you call me in now?" Ed asked. Mustang, still a General but pretty soon to be Fuhrer, leveled him with one of his serious, no-nonsense looks, "Because, this hits a little close to home. Normally, I'd try to keep you as far away from this case as I could, especially now that you're no longer a State Alchemist, but you're the closest I've got to an expert in human transmutation, Fullmetal."_

"What?" _Ed growled, snatching the file held out to him. As he looked it over, his eyes widened, "But this is-!"_

"_That's right. Dalva was a central soldier during the incident with Father and went missing not long after. It only recently came to light that he managed to get his hands on Shou Tucker's research and information regarding the philosopher's stone."_

"_Wasn't all of that locked up?" Ed asked. Mustang steepled his hands and closed his eyes, "It was, after about a month of cleanup and going through scattered records. Plenty of time for someone who knew what to look for to snatch some information."_

_Dalva had apparently been spotted in a small town when a soldier had been dispatched to investigate several cases of missing persons. Ed had been asked to go along with the team to infiltrate the warehouse he'd been seen loitering around. Inside had been utter hell._

_Several "experiments," some failed, some moaning stilted words, of human-chimeras were locked away in cages or left to rot on the ground. Circles, some horrid mixture of bio-alchemy and his own design in human transmutation, littered the walls and floors._

_He'd been the one to burst into the back room and ignore the calls of the officers he'd gone with. When he spotted a little girl, tied up and gagged with wide, fearful eyes in the center of a circle, he didn't even freeze –he was long past the point of shock –and threw himself at her, smudging what he could of the circle in the process. He managed to knock the girl away from the circle, when he became aware of the other person in the room._

"_You! You're ruining my work! I'm so close –so close to making the perfect being!"_

_Then there was a gunshot, white-hot pain in his chest-_

And that was it. That was where his memories halted.

So, he'd gotten shot. He'd… died…?

"So how the hell did I end up here?" He asked aloud, looking past his hands to see rustling sunlight peeking through the swaying leaves. He definitely wasn't in any sort of afterlife he knew of. And there was no white-on-black-on-white being with a chilling grin to meet him.

_No, _he woke up in the body of a nameless, family-less, starving child living on the streets. Was it reincarnation? That would explain the new body and the child's memories, but if that was the case, why did he remember his other life…?

"Well. Shit," he muttered, letting his arms fall away from him, onto the warm grass as it finally sank in. Who cared about reincarnation, he _died. _He'd failed to return from that mission. He'd left Al, his kids, _Winry._

Mustang was probably cussing his grave out, by now.

"Sorry, guys…" he muttered. He could only hope –not pray, goodness knows he didn't have a God to pray to –that they were alright. That they _would be _alright. That they could move on without him.

…What about him? Could he move on without them?

He supposed an apple of knowledge wouldn't hit him on the head if he continued to sit under the tree, so he stood and brushed himself off, taking a deep breath to help clear away the coat of depression he'd shouldered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of those street kids from earlier walking towards him. Ed idly wondered if he looked as grimy as the shady-eyed boy, who he remembered causing younger him a lot of trouble before.

"Hey, shorty-"

As soon as the word had been uttered, Ed had frozen for one second, taken in the fact he was now, at an estimate, _twelve_, and was maybe a little over four and a half feet tall. He may have the memories of his thirty-year-old self, but there was a reason he'd been glad to finally gain a growth spurt all those years ago.

When the second was up, a flying kick –_ouch, _he was going to have to _(re?)_train his body, because _no, _that foot was most definitely not made of steel –connected with the kid's face.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING A MITE-SIZED AOMEBA WHO COULD HIDE UNDERNEATH A DUST PARTICLE!?"

No matter the situation or his mental age, some things about Edward Elric just didn't change.

* * *

This world was _so _screwed up.

Seas full of islands in place of continents, giant sea monsters, a Great Pirate Era, a hopeless navy, an extremely corrupted World Government _(if the fact they call themselves Celestial was anything to go by)._

Yea, Ed wasn't called a genius for nothing. He could smell _that_ bullshit a mile away.

Since he wasn't suicidal enough to try his non-existent luck at sailing, he decided to stick to the town, pilfering what he could from the market and sleeping anywhere that looked safe enough not to get him stabbed or worse. This routine got very old, very quickly, and in the end, he ended up swiping a knife and wandering into the forest.

The wildlife here was _unique_, that was for sure.

After managing to run away from the latest giant tiger, he couldn't help but feel thankful for his teacher's treatment- _nope. _As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he viciously crushed it, a shiver running down his spine. He wasn't going insane today, thank you very much.

Best not to think about it.

This escapade led him to a beach.

The first time he laid eyes on that ocean… well, he didn't know what it was exactly, but it made his heart ache and excitement build in his chest. Then he spotted the dark, churning clouds, and managed to find shelter in the form of a rickety old shack at the edge of the forest.

The storm lasted hours, and the walls of the shack didn't look like they would hold up. When a particularly strong gust of wind elicited a particularly ominous _creak_, he'd panicked. He'd _clapped,_ momentarily forgetting that he shouldn't be able to perform alchemy in wake of the _ring _that emanated outwards.

When the moment of light from the reaction was over, all four walls were transmuted into something a little sturdier with the debris laying around, but Ed could only focus on one thing.

He _had a gate!?_

His own gate, if the clap-transmutation proved anything other than the fact he had one.

This revelation only brought him back to that never-ending circle of thoughts that had plagued him since he'd first "woken up" in this world –back to remembering everything he'd left behind, and trying to figure out for what reason he was _here _and not _there._

* * *

A few days after that first storm, he decided to try town again, lest he become some moping hermit.

The wind had done a number on several houses and stores. When he walked into town, it was to the sight of people still doing clean-up work and attempting repairs.

"This'll take weeks… barely any of this is even salvageable…" One man grumbled, sorting through piles of wood debris. Ed rolled an idea over in his mind before approaching, "I could help you out… for a price."

The man looked up from his job with a raised eyebrow, wrinkling his nose at Ed's unruly appearance, "Get outta here kid. Ain't got no job for you."

Ed sighed, walked towards the demolished wall, careful to be far enough away from the man to work, and clapped.

Light reaction, followed by the flow of energy into the transmutation, and Ed was left with a flawless wall and several gawking onlookers.

"What about now?" He smirked, the previously frustrated man wide-eyed in awe. The rest of the day was spent fixing things and negotiating prices. By the end of it, he'd finally been able to buy some new clothes and a good pair of boots, take a bath in the local bath house, and get a meal that wasn't unseasoned meat roasted over a campfire. It turned out to be a productive day.

* * *

If there was one thing Ed hated more than General Bastard _(oh, the heart attacks he'd given people when he called his former superior officer that to his face, only for the conversation to dissolve into spitting insults and scathing comments)_, it was monotony.

So when he just happened to glance out the window of the shack during another storm, nearly a year after that first one, to see a man washed up on the beach alongside a little boat, he spent maybe ten seconds debating with himself before throwing on his coat and braving the weather.

It took him nine less to become thoroughly aggravated with his chosen plan of action. Tromping through the muddy sand and trying not to get blown over by the salty gales from the churning sea, he approached the unconscious and bleeding man.

And stomped on his face, "If you don't wake your ass up and drag your own weight, I'm leaving you here."

The man groaned, rolled onto his side, and blinked up at him through the rain, "Great… now I'm seeing golden midgets…"

"_WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THEY COULD CALL A GRAIN OF SAND A MOUNTAIN!?"_

The man huffed a laugh, "A sensitive midget."

"I'M NOT SHORT, DAMNIT!"

Ed turned on his heel, about to leave the guy, when he heard a thud and turned back around. The man had tried to get up, only to slump back over on the sopping beach.

"Hey… mind… helping a guy ou…t…?" then he was dead to the world.

Ed wanted to leave him there. He really did. How many times had he scolded Al for picking up strays?

He slung one of the man's arms over his shoulder and half-dragged him to the shack. Once inside, he tossed the man on the couch, shed his water-logged coat, and dug around in one of the trunks he used for storage for some bandages.

Now that he wasn't half-blinded by the rain, Ed could make out the man's rugged face, uneven stubble, and wild brown hair, along with the wound on his side. Peeling the tattered shirt away from the wound, Ed idly made out a skull-and-crossbones tattooed on the man's chest.

"A pirate, eh…?"

* * *

Ed awoke the next morning to a munching sound.

Grumbling and cracking his neck, he stood from the chair he'd fallen asleep in and spotted the culprit, head stuffed in his food cabinet.

"_You."_

The man jumped, banging his head in the cabinet before pulling it out, cheeks stuffed and a guilty grin on his face, "Uh… hey there midget."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Ed snapped, jumping off the floor. A year of training had done wonders for his flying kick.

Minutes later, the man was seated in the couch with several knots on his head while Ed gathered whatever cloth he had lying around.

"So, kid, you live out here by yourself?" The man started, wincing as he touched a sensitive bump on his head. Ed raised an eyebrow, slamming a trunk closed and walking back to the couch with a folded piece of black cloth, setting it on the pile he had gathered and nodding to himself. He clapped his hands, and a few sparks of energy later, he had a new set of clothes and a gawking food thief.

"Was that a devil fruit ability!?"

"The hell is a devil fruit?"

The man gave him a searching gaze, "You know, treasure of the sea, grants powers to whoever eats it. I've never seen one myself, but I've heard stories…"

"A fruit that gives you powers?" Ed gave a dry laugh, "Sorry, never heard of something like that. I used alchemy."

"Isn't that the sciency-stuff with all the old men in chemical labs?"

Ed threw the clothes at the man, "Put this on. You owe me for the food."

* * *

"Wait, don't-!"

_Crash._

"Eheh… oops?"

Ed sighed as his food thief broke the remaining pieces of a set of antique cups. He fixed them, of course, but apparently, they weren't exactly the same, because the old woman only paid him half price.

"No, wait-!"

_Crumble._

"Owww…"

The wall his food thief leaned on, which Ed had stressed was still weak and that he would need to get more materials to strengthen, caved in, leaving a gaping hole in its place. He did manage to repair it with wood from the forest, but the shop owner only paid him a fraction of what that big project would've earned him.

"I swear to _Truth, _if you _touch that-!"_

The rickety old cart with a broken wheel collapsed into a pile of scrap wood.

Ed fixed that, too, and decided to call it a day before his reputation suffered anymore.

"_You _are absolutely _hopeless,"_ Ed seethed, carrying new groceries down the path to the shack. Food Thief trailed along, dejected, "Sorry about all that, kid. Guess I should've warned you…"

"You think!?"

The man gave a shallow chuckle, and they fell into silence. Ed rounded a bend that came out on the beach and stopped.

Cerulean waves lapped at the white sand. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an orange glow on the sparkling surface. Once again, he felt that pull.

Food Thief had apparently stopped to admire the scenery with him, "You're a weird kid, you know that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ed's face fell flat, but he didn't turn away from the ocean.

"Well, you don't act like a ten year old-"

"I'm thirteen, damnit."

"-and you've got that weird magic-"

"Alchemy is a science."

"-and you live on your own out on the edge of the island."

"And you don't act like any pirate I've ever heard of," Ed countered. The man raised an eyebrow, "I never told you I was a pirate."

"People don't just brand themselves with a skull and crossbones nowadays for the hell of it."

The man hummed, "You got me there."

"Why were you sailing around by yourself, anyway?" Ed asked.

"Ah… well… I kind of got kicked off the ship for breaking everything I touched…"

"Figures."

"Well, that just means I haven't found my home yet!" The man yelled, crossing his arms and holding his head up proudly. Ed smiled wistfully, "Home, eh?"

The man smiled, "That's what a ship and a crew is out on the sea –your home."

It was silent, before the man spoke again, "What about you midget-"

"Goddamnit."

"-why are you living way out here in your own?"

Ed debated how much to tell the man until he remembered that he didn't really have a reason to hide anything, "My home's far out of my reach." The way he said it must've conveyed something about the fact he wouldn't be getting it back, because the man's expression darkened. "I haven't got anyone that cares about me but me, now."

"So what's stopping you from heading out to sea like you want to?" Ed jerked and gave the man a wide-eyes stare. The man just laughed, "C'mon, kid, it's written all over your face! It's hard to resist the pull of the sea, isn't it?"

"And do what, exactly? Go around as a walking repair service for the rest of my life?" Ed quipped. "Go around 'looking for a home'? I had one, and it got taken away from me. If I were to go looking for another one, wouldn't that mean replacing _them?"_

Silence reigned, and the sun finally dipped below the water's edge, letting moonlight and stars take its place. It wasn't any less bright.

"Kid, moving on doesn't mean forgetting."

Ed knew that –he'd moved on from his mother's death. From the whole human transmutation thing. But he'd had people to help him remember, to share in the memories. Here, he was all alone with that old life of his.

Could he really trust himself to never forget?

* * *

_I.O.U. Several bags of groceries._

_Thanks for the help, Midget!_

_-Your pirate friend._

This was what Ed awoke to the next morning, this note stuck inside his once again empty cabinets.

After his initial anger subsided _("Who's a midget, you one-man demolition team!?")_, he threw on his coat and walked out the door, planning on heading back into town to try and get some breakfast money.

Then he stopped outside the door, faced once again with that horizon.

Time escaped him as he stood there, thinking. About his past, about the people he would no longer see. The darkness of night had let his thoughts fester in a depressing circle, but with the morning light, that never-ending circle was beginning to break.

"_Moving on doesn't mean forgetting."_

How many wrenches would Winry be chucking at him right now? How many punches would Al be throwing? Hawkeye would be shooting at him. Mustang would be belittling him with that bastard smirk of his. Teacher would be trying her damned best to kill him.

His kids would be looking at him with those wide eyes, wondering what their dad was doing sitting on his ass with a whole new world in the distance.

_Forget them?_ How could he think it would be that easy to forget?

He sucked in a lungful of air, drew himself up, and stomped out onto the beach until the waves began to lap at his boots. He brought up his right hand –_his _hand, not that little boy he remembered being, but _his _–and pointed straight ahead, to where the sky met the water.

A fire once again burned in his eyes.

"Here I come, you freaky new world. You'd better watch out for Edward Elric!"

* * *

_This probably has more coming? I'll get back to ya with it when it decides to put itself on paper, haha. In the meantime, tell me what you thought._

_-Dragon_


End file.
